“You’re so demented, By. Seriously. I was already having a shitty day, and… God.”

“Is this about Moonsong?”

“I really don’t give two shits about Moonsong, By.”

“Are you sure? Because you went off rails and made a beeline to that party right after I talked with her.”

Byron switched out. Tristan had the body, but Tristan didn’t respond.

His finger traced his leg, at the thigh. “If she makes you happier, then whatever. She can say whatever she wants about me if she keeps you in one piece. I just—I really despise the fact that you’re not understanding that this is what I need to keep myself in one piece.”

“Tristan, he doesn’t want to sleep with you. This isn’t the hill to die on. Date him. Kiss him, stick your tongue down his throat if that’s what you want, if you can do it while being aware your brother is there and watching and feeling it all. If that’s what you want… I’ll deal with it. But I have to draw the line at anything that goes under the underwear.”

“No,” Tristan said. One word, curt, and then switching out.

“No?”

Byron switched. Tristan switched back a moment later.

“You fucking child,” Byron snarled the words. “You can’t even justify it.”

He switched. Tristan switched a second later.

Byron was left standing in the office. He knew Mr. Vaughn would arrive soon.

“You know he’ll back me. I think that’s what kills you. You know you’re wrong, and what you’re wanting here is unjustifiable and unreasonable.”

He switched.

There was a long pause. Then Tristan switched back, not a word spoken.

“Tristan,” Byron said. He hesitated. “Tristan, I have to draw the line here. Tap out. Give. Accept my terms. Or I’m going to reach out to Nate, and I’m going to tell him everything. That I was there, that I could see him—I’m pretty sure he didn’t even think that was possible, because he’s an actually decent human being and he would have stopped you well before, if he’d thought of it. I will tell him, and he will think you are completely and utterly fucked up. Which I’m pretty sure you are.”

Byron let those words hang.

Then he switched.

Tristan was very quiet and very still. That motionless silence lasted the remaining three or four minutes before Mr. Vaughn returned.

“Did you make a decision?” Mr. Vaughn asked.

Again, a pause. Long, as if Tristan was having to rewrite his priorities, and find a way to act and form words when everything was reset to zero.

“I agree,” Tristan said, his voice soft. “Nothing beyond kissing and holding hands.”

“I can’t tell you how much I respect you for coming to this compromise.”